


They're Trying

by TheLyingElf



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Mute Nero!Twin Reader, Regrets, Violence, mentions of injury, talks about death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-21 08:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLyingElf/pseuds/TheLyingElf
Summary: You're Nero's twin sister, born a mute. The Elder twins of Sparda have come back from the underworld and Kyrie has suggested you spend time with Dante and Vergil to bond and find answers you aren't entirely sure you want.You don't mind the awkward silence that hangs over you, what do mind is the fact that Vergil just spoke to you.. in sign language..
Relationships: Credo (Devil May Cry) & Reader, Dante & Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante (Devil May Cry) & Reader, Kyrie (Devil May Cry) & Reader, Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero (Devil May Cry) & Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry) & Reader
Comments: 47
Kudos: 165





	1. A Silent Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever posted fic. I got this idea from Synchronmurmurs on Tumblr, when an anon came up with the idea of a Mute Nero!Twin Sister. I hope you like this bit of awkward fluff and please forgive any errors. Thank you!
> 
> Edit: Thank you all for all the sweet comments and kudos. I appreciate every single one of them!  
> After some encouragement and a few comments of people wishing there was a bit more to Dante in this, I did go back and edit this chapter. Yes chapter, I plan on doing 10 chapters! I corrected some spelling and wording issues, added a bit more to the story and gave a little to Dante. It's not much, but he's not just sitting back silent.  
> I'll update tags as a post the new chapters. Thank you to everyone again for all the sweet comments!

A quiet breath of a sigh left your lips, but you weren't sure what to do in this moment, part of you wishing that Kyrie was here to offer as a buffer between the four of you. Ah, but Kyrie was why you found yourself, and your brother, seated on the old leather couch in the Devil May Cry shop in the first place.

Nico had dropped the both of you off after Kyrie requested that the two of you spend some time with your… newly found family, to put it mildly. Amongst the Qliphoth fiasco, you and Nero had come to find out that Dante was actually your uncle. Leaving his twin brother none other than your father. Not only did twins run in your family, but being part demon did as well, along with the blue eyes and unnatural white hair you'd both been the subject of harassment for. 

You and Nero had long given up getting answers about who you guys were, what you guys were and why you were left on the doorstep to the orphanage in Fortuna all those years ago. Ignored the ones who called you the child of a prostitute and threw things at you. But… you could finally get _some_ answers, you just had to ask. That is, if you were able to speak in the first place. 

Though you and Nero are indeed twins, to a scarily degree in terms of appearance; same color hair and eyes, the scrunch of your brow in irritation or displeasure, to the way you both dress in blue and gold matching leather coats with torn up shirts underneath, black pant and combat boots. Yes, you were shorter than Nero, not by much mind you. Where he stood six foot two, you stood a respectable five foot nine. Where you differed was in your personalities, polar opposites in that regard.

While he was quick to anger, you were not, and where he would lash out, _you could not._ He could speak, and you were _mute_ , not by choice. Born with irreversible damage to your speech muscle left you as such, a mute. Many claimed it was the price you paid for being twin bastards born out of wedlock, and to a prostitute. Not even the demon blood that ran through your veins could fix your vocal cords. Those around you, close to you and Nero, learned sign language to be able to speak to you without any misunderstandings.

And this is why not only did you not know _what_ to say, even if you did know, you couldn't say it anyways.

Dante and Vergil sat across from you, Dante in his chair behind his desk and Vergil leaned against the wall just a short distance away. They had been back from the underworld for quite the few months now, though that didn't stop you and your brother from trying avoiding them as much as possible since neither of you knew how to deal with this kind of situation.

It has always been you and him versus whatever the world threw at you. Just… the world decided it would throw you your biological family, in the worst possible scenario ever. Your eyes glanced around the room briefly, from your brother to your uncle, then to your father and back down into your lap to twiddle your thumbs.

You guys had discussed a few times over the last almost year since the whole thing happened, you couldn't decide if you really wanted answers or leave it in the air. What you did know, was neither you wanted to be here right now, but Kyrie; ever the saint that she is, asked you give them a chance and who were you to say no to your best friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law.

She saw the way both of you buried yourselves in demon hunting when you came back from the Qliphoth tree, the tension wound up in your bodies of knowing _who_ you family was for the most part, but not being able to see or speak to them. Since they both decided that they would shimmy off to the underworld and cut the tree down.

And so… here you sat, next to your brother, across from your uncle and father. _Attempting_ to bond, as Kyrie would put it, but all that was really being accomplished was this awkward silence. The elder Sparda twins knew of your lack of verbal communication ability, neither knew how to talk to you without you needing someone to translate your sign language to them or writing on a piece of paper.

Not that you particularly mind the silence, the awkwardness made you slightly uncomfortable, you were often encompassed in silence as back home everyone signed to you more often than not to keep from forgetting how, even the three boys Nero and Kyrie adopted learned in order to spend time with their favorite aunt!

Yes, being born mute came with difficulties. Yes, it was frustrating some times. However, you would not trade what you have now, your family, for anything in the world. They kept you from feeling and being isolated from everyone else.

The shuffling of leather brought you back from your musing, the simmering ache of wanting to be home to play with your nephews and hang out with Nico was sounding much more appealing by the minute.

The silence was nice, but the boredom that slowly encroached was making you antsy, much like Nero, you were a highly active person. Just sitting and doing nothing could only satisfy you for so long.

With a quiet huff that passed through your plush lips, you reached over to curl lithe fingers into the sleeve of Nero's coat, giving it a couple light tugs to garner his attention. 

Nero tilt his head to you partly and hummed quizzically, his eyes focus on your hands.

“ _How mad do you think Kyrie would be if we returned back home early?_ ” You signed to him, somewhat aware of the extra sets of eyes _trying_ to read you as well.

Nero shrugged his shoulders, a non-committal grunt rumbled in the back of his throat, he still scrunched his nose slightly in thought but finally raised his hand to hold up five fingers then retracted them all so they sat on his thumb, repeating once more; fifty-fifty. You knew that meant he wasn't entirely sure, but would probably be a fifty percent chance of being pretty angry, you had promised her the both of you would try to bond. And you are! Trying. It's just… you **don't know how.**

Vergil cleared his throat, gaining yours and the other two demon hunters attention with mild curiosity. His eyes were downcast for a moment before his gaze locked with yours, the cold stare you were so accustomed to from this man was replaced with uncertainty and a tinge of sadness.

You briefly wondered why until he held up his hands and signed to you. He signed. _To you._ Your jaw popped open in shock, pretty sure your brothers was to, maybe even Dante's.

“ _Is it truly that uncomfortable here, that you wish to leave?_ ”

Eyes widened, jaw agape. If you could sputter, you probably would have at this point. But it seems Dante has taken care of that for you. A sputter to nonsensical mash of words come from his mouth before he managed to untie the knot in his tongue, “What the hell? When did you learn sign language, Verg?!”

Vergil ignored Dante, his focus solely on you at the moment waiting with baited breath, not that he'd admit to it, for a response. You were frozen, stuck on the fact that this man took time out of his day to learn how to communicate with you. 

“Don't just ignore me, Vergil!” Dante exclaimed, it sounded almost like a whine. He truly was the younger brother at times, wasn't he? 

Vergil sigh through his mouth, barely audible growl emitted from his throat as a glowing blue sword formed over head, one of his summoned swords, and plunged it into Dante's chest. Dante only kicked up a slight fit, grumbling ‘ _seriously, again?’_ before he quieted down, his eyes glancing from you to his brother.

Your head turned to your brother, a silent plea in your eyes begging him to confirm that _really just happened_. Vergil, son of Sparda, has apparently learn to sign and used it to speak to you. He nodded dumbly.

You turned back to Vergil, catching the still dumbfounded look on Dante's face in the process; you signed for him to repeat what he just said or well did with shaky hands. He almost looked angry if it wasn’t for that tug of a smirk at the edges of his lips.

He signed again, “ _I asked, if you were really that uncomfortable that you wished to leave._ ” 

“ _You.. learned to sign..? For me?”_

Vergil nodded his head, one of your hands gripped onto Nero's and he gave it a tentative squeeze, just as shocked as you were.

“Why?” Nero finally managed to find his voice amongst the unexpected turn of events.

“Because, she is my daughter just as you are my son. I wished to be able to speak with her without the barriers and misunderstandings.” Vergil said, signing as well in demonstration of just how much he has put into learning sign language. _For you._

You slowly stood as you released Nero's hand, padding over to where Vergil was standing and gently grasped onto the cuff of his sleeve. When you peered up through your lashes, eyes glistening with unshed tears, he saw the appreciation, the ‘ _thank you’_ in them. You carefully laced your arms around his waist, digging fingers into the leather of coat at the back in your grasp before hugging him tightly.

Vergil wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the other to the back of your head in even soft strokes, returning the embrace as he pressed his lips through white mousy bangs to your forehead before quietly murmuring, “You're welcome, my little starling.”

It wasn't what you had expected when you came to the shop today, not by a long shot. It is what you needed, though, an affirmation that things will be slow and more than likely frustrating at times, but also that knowledge of _they’re trying_. 

Just maybe, so should you and Nero.


	2. Teach An Old Dog New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shocked that his brother had done something for someone other than himself, leaves you thinking that he might be feeling left out in this new family of four.   
> So you ask him if he'd like to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter revolves around you and Dante. Sorry if Dante seems a little OOC. If you haven't seen the edit to the first chapter I did, then I recommend going back and skimming through. I added a bit and fixed some things.

To say he looked gob smacked was an understatement. You hadn't known the man in front of you to ever truly be taken by surprise or even shocked when he fought demons, even people. Dante may _act_ like he is an aloof almost airhead, but he was actually quite observant of the things around him. If he tried, he was shockingly smart.

Something you noticed when you had initially crossed paths with him seven- almost eight years back at The Order of the Sword HQ. A war waged by a corrupt self-proclaimed vicar, greedy for Sparda's power and an insufferable alchemist who'd do anything to be able to craft the perfect demon.

Here he stood, eyes glued to the door, that just moments ago had clicked shut as both Vergil and Nero left to “settle a score", from what your brother called it. His mouth just barely giving the hint of shock, if the slight part in them was anything to go by.

“I can't believe my stick up the ass of a brother actually did something for someone other than himself!” His back was to you, eyes still locked on the door for the moment while he scratched at the stubble decorating his chin and jaw. The silence behind him makes him turn to you, probably just now remembering that you were there or that you are unable to speak.

His eyes follow the movement of your hands as you sign to him, “ _Was he that sel-.._.” You stopped moving your hands, catching yourself trying to sign once again to a person who can't understand a thing you have said. You know he can't read sign language, it slipped your mind with Vergil coming forth and having full conversations with you in content silence. Discussions done with hands rather than vocal renditions.

Almost everyone around you, those that you see on a daily basis, have taken up sign language just to make things easier on you and themselves, you have often forgot that not everyone knows how to sign, or even read it. You hear and know what people are saying, but they won't always know what you are saying. One of the few frustrations of being mute, but not a big deal.

You stared down at your hands, your left hand having that worn fingerless glove have been while the right had remained bare for a while, it _finally_ had a glove to match your right. It still weirds you out sometimes to have that fleshy hand back rather than your Devil Bringer arm.

Dante's presence is forgotten, a blip in the back of your mind as you study your hands and wracked your brain for a way to communicate with him without having to play that damned guessing game in the lack of paper or someone to interpret.

An idea struck you, that metaphorical light bulb lit above your head. _There is a way_. This idea lights up in your eyes and when you look back up at Dante, who has been staring at you with an apologetic grin, he sees a twinkle in your eyes. But the slight frown and pinch in your brows tells him that you feel bad about not being able to talk to him and he sighs when he places a heavy hand on your shoulder.

You point towards his hand then held out yours, Dante looked confuse but place his hand in yours none the less, a curiosity you assume is greater than the confusion. When you hold his hand in yours, you note the weight of it; so much heavier than your brother’s. Even heavier than Credo's… You fingers find the clasp of the glove, un-fastening its hold so you could slide the glove off.

Placing the glove on the desk near you, you can now see the callouses from the years of fighting he has under his belt. You pull your eyes away from his hand to his eyes, lighter blue than yours and Nero's. _Maybe that has to do with him being half demon, rather than whatever amount we are?_ You muse to yourself before giving Dante a smile, one that he tries to return but looks unsure.

Dante feels the tip of your finger against his palm, and you know he does because of the twitch in his hand. _Ticklish_? But you don't take that thought further, you have an idea that you wish to accomplish. You dragged your finger along his palm, tracing out letters to spell out words that would otherwise be a struggle to convey without aid.

“ _I'm sorry_.”

You hope he understand why you are apologizing, you don't feel bad about being mute. That is something you can't control, no you are apologizing for not being able to effectively talk to him and forgetting that he can't understand when you sign. He hasn't learned how, and you don't blame him. You can't. Even though you met almost 8 years ago now, Nero did most the talking and in the recent year, he spent majority of that in the underworld.

You don't expect him to accommodate you just because you have a disability. Much like you don't expect other people to, but it's nice when they do.

Dante's face soften when it clicked, he smiled down at you. A genuine smile, at least from what you've seen, and the light squeeze on your shoulder from his other hand is comforting. “Ah, kid. It's not your fault. You are surrounded by people who can talk to you, and forgetting that someone can't once in a while, isn't a reason to feel bad.” He paused, seeming to contemplate his next words. “Vergil pulled one hell of a surprise, I didn't even know he was trying to learn…”

His somber tone towards the end leaves you thinking that he feels left behind or left in the dark, and that thought shortly turns to another idea. One you hope he’s up for, returning the pressure of your finger to his palm, you trace out more letters and only pausing for a second to indicate spaces between words or letters.

“ _Would you… like to learn? Sign language. I can teach you.”_

When you finished, you stare up at him, hoping that he'd be up for the idea, up to the challenge. See the effort in you trying to make him feel included in this new family the four of you have obtained. You tilt your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his when he seems at a loss for words, but also taking the time to think it out.

The silence continued to grow in his lack of response, his eyes focused on something but nothing at the same time. A look of being lost in ones own head. You lightly squeeze his hand in your own, pulling him back to the present where he looks at you with mild trepidation.

“ _Is… that a no_?” You frowned when he still didn't say anything, feeling a little stupid for thinking he'd be up for the idea.

Dante flusters a bit before he apologizes and agreed to being taught sign language. A smile creeps onto your face that had you beaming up at him.

“ _Great! Let's start with the alphabet. This is A.”_ When you finished tracing the sentence out on his palm, you held your hand out like you were making fist, but instead of fingers curled towards your palm, you leave them resting in the butt of it and your thumb parallel to your fingers.

You gesture for him to mimic you, giving an excited nod when he does. You spent the rest of the day teaching him the alphabet for signing, helping him hold his hand in the right position along with his fingers while asking him to repeat the letter verbally so he can remember better.

By the time Nero and Vergil walk back through the shops doors, you and Dante are sitting on the couch, a huge smile on your face as you watch Dante go through the motions of the alphabet. They glance at one another, then back to you. Nero shrugs, but he smiles while walking over to sit behind you on the couch to relax. 

Vergil chose to stand near, watching the familial interactions and occasionally taking a dig at Dante when he got something wrong. Which you quickly glared at him and told him to stop, and surprised that he obliged.

You snicker and think you really can _teach an old dog new tricks._


	3. Still Us Verse The World?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horde of demons is wearing you down. In a moment of reprieve, a demon sneaks up on your brother. But you take the hit for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! This chapter took me a bit to finish. I struggled with coming up with a bonding moment that wouldn't take from another chapter for a different character I have planned. Thanks for being patient with me and all the kudos! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter featuring Nero himself! and a bit of Kyrie. 
> 
> Warning: There is mentions of injury, death and blood in this chapter. Not to descriptive, but could still be a trigger for some people. So just a heads up!

This was getting frustrating, the large cluster of Hell Caina’s with a few Hell Antenora’s in the mix, though it was more like waves of hordes rather than clusters. There wasn’t any sign of them slowing down any time soon, you had been here fighting them along with Nero. There _were_ a few Order members who were brave enough to stay and help, but this was just inside of Mitis forest close to town. Most of them have been cut down or fled by now. 

Something was _spawning_ _them.._ _No, there must be another reason. Think! What else could allow such a large amount of demons throu-.._

There must still a hell gate that Dante had to have missed in the fall of the Order of the Sword a few years back. That was the only explanation to this many demons spilling around you. You had to let Nero know, someone needed to find that hell gate and destroy it before it became too much for the both of you to handle. It was already starting to get a little much as is, not out of control. But it was getting there and you weren’t liking the odds that were slowly stacking against you. 

When you pressed your lips together and whistled, a loud bordering on ear piercing whistle, it was followed by no response. You whistled again, trying to get Nero’s attention with how you always have when you were in the midst of battle, you couldn’t yell for him when you had no voice for yelling. He came up with the idea, whistles, different types for different things. A low whistle for incoming enemies, a high pitched for attention, a humming whistle for when you needed help, and three quick ones to signal that you were okay. 

You peered over your shoulder at Nero after driving your Durandal down the middle of an oncoming Hell Caina, giving you a few seconds of reprieve. He was getting worked up again, always easy to get excited or pissed off and forget his surroundings. He normally tried to keep himself in check so he could listen for your signals, but it seems he was getting just as frustrated if not more than you were. 

The wave of demons started to thin with every one cut down, you slowly back yourself towards Nero with every demon turning to dust and guts on your swords blade, you took another step or jump back to your brother. 

Finally, the last of this wave was laying on the floor with the lifeless Order members, you turned to Nero with a scowl before slapping him in the back of the head. 

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” Nero rubbed the back of his head when he turned towards you with a scowl of his own. 

“ _I whistled, asshole! Did you even hear it over yourself?! I was trying to get your attention.”_ You signed, quicker than normal. Circumstances called for speed right now, times like this you really wish you were able to scream. The frustration from him losing himself to battle always left himself and others open to injury, or worse, death. “ _There’s a hell gate, somewhere deeper in the forest.”_

His eyes widened momentarily as he muttered an apology, he looked around the forest. “Fuck, I thought Dante destroyed them all?” 

“ _Looks like he missed one.”_

_“_ With how they poured in, in the last wave. I think they are coming for the east, maybe the hell gate is that way?” 

“ _It’s our best choice right now, let’s head that way and_ _che_ _-”_ You didn’t have enough time to warn him of the Hell Antenora sneaking up on him, nor did you have the time to pull your weapon forward fast enough to block the oncoming attack. So, you did the only thing you could at that moment, react. 

Your hand shot forward and grabbed Nero by the shoulder of his coat, pushing him to the side and to the ground as you braced for the attack. You knew how to minimize the damage that would be done, it was still going to hurt like a bitch. Better a temporary wound, than to lose your brother. 

Raising your left arm, your Devil Bringer that almost matched your brother’s, across your chest to protect your chest from the attack. The material that made up your Devil Bringer looked like reptilian leather, but it was more like a hard chitinous material, felt like stone in certain areas. 

The cleaver of the Hell Antenora embedded into your shoulder briefly and the clang against the hard exterior of your Devil Bringer arm before the impact flung you back, colliding with one of the many trees. You weren’t sure which one had caused it, the collision with the tree or the force from the cleaver, but you breath was ripped from your lungs in a silent forced exhale as you crumpled to the ground. Every breath you tried to take was like trying to breathe through a pillow held over your face, difficult and painful but not impossible. 

When you could finally take a full breath through your nose, Nero was at your side in a panic. “Shit, sis! Are you okay? Why the fuck did you do that?!” 

Your back rest against the trunk of the tree you had slammed into, hissing when a bolt of pain from your shoulder shot through. Lightly peeling away the left side of the coat revealed the fairly large gash near the crook of your neck. Inwardly groaning at the injury, you thought of how annoying this is going to be until it healed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! We need get you out of here.” Nero began to slide his hands under you to pick him up, but you placed a firm hand on his chest to stop him. He looked up; brows scrunched in confusion. 

Shaking your head, only slightly grimacing in pain from the movement, you signed ‘ _hell gate’_ then pointed in the rough direction you thought they were coming from. 

“Wha-.. N-no! You’re hurt, I’m not just going to leave you!” 

You leveled your brother with a glare, one he knew all too well, one you gave him often. It could mean a plethora of things, but the situations always gave for understanding when you stared into his equally pale blue eyes, yours filled with determination and hope. A look that simply read ‘ _please_ _do what needs to be done’_ and ‘ _I’ll be okay’._

Nero’s lips pressed together as he clenched his jaw, but he nodded none the less. “Fine. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He rose to his feet, taking one last look at you before disappearing behind the light of green foliage and trees. 

Moments like these, you were glad you had rose in the ranks of the Order. Being Credo’s guard, though you couldn’t really give commands, you held a rank similar to that of his second in command. That high rank earned you knowledge, privileges and authority that others didn’t have. Not many could rival you in this and when they did, you challenged them to a duel. 

A lot of Holy Knights couldn’t accept a mute being a higher rank than them, not just because of that, but also because you were a _woman_ and fairly young for such an authoritative rank. There was a time where you were challenged every day and every time you laid them flat on their asses. You were unparalleled in combat, only a hand full of people in the ranks of Holy Knights stood a chance of beating you. One being your mentor, Credo, and the other was his second in command. Occasionally, Nero could best you back then, more so now-a-days. 

Raising in the ranks of the Order was only done out of necessity. To protect your brother from other knights picking on him, to protect yourself from the same harsh treatment and to learn more advanced things you’d otherwise be withheld from. One such lesson was on slowing your heart rate down to aid in stemming blood flow to any wounds. 

You pulled a small rag you kept on you and held it over the gash with ample pressure as you began your breathing exercises. _1, 2, 3 hold. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, release._ Counting in your head to every inhale and exhale of air, feeling your heart slowly calm down. The lull of your slowed heart brought about a calm, peeling the rag from the wound and assessing the damage. 

_Tsk. Still bleeding but it looks like it is already trying to heal, will probably need some stitches._ You clicked your tongue in though, an exhausted sigh following. 

Placing the bloodied rag back on the wound and rest your head against the tree. Eyes languidly closing when the lightheadedness from the blood loss stated to creep in and the edges of your vision darkened. You began tapping your index and middle fingers on the rag in an effort to stay awake long enough until Nero made it back. Focusing on the brief periods of pressure and tempo of your fingers. _Tap,_ _Tap.._ _Tap,_ _Tap.._ _Tap,_ _Tap.._ Over and over. 

You’re not sure how long he was gone for, if felt like hours, but it could have been minutes. Half an hour at most? Who knows, you’d have to ask later. Right now, though, you were growing weak with blood loss and a possible fracture rib. If that sharp pain leading to dull ache was any indicator now that the adrenaline had dissipated. 

You felt the heat first on your cheek, subconsciously leaning into it, then you felt the claws and leathery texture lightly tilting your head. With more effort than you know should have been necessary, your eyes opened and met your brother’s worried ones. You gave him a small smile and closed your eyes again before he softly tapped on your cheek. 

“(Y/N), you need to stay awake.” You could hear the concern lacing in his tone, not one he took up often around you. 

“ _I’m fine. Tired. Go home.”_ Sluggishly and abbreviated with the function of one arm, you heard him huff before he picked you. When you hissed the movement disturbed your injury and he murmured a sorry. The quiet thumps of his heart against your ear further lulled your already fading conscious and you soon found the blackened void of your mind and the silence quickly becoming your new best friends. 

The sound of arguing, albeit one-sided, muffled by what you guessed was the door pulled you from the cold darkness, taking stock of your surroundings. First, you curled your fingers and toes, thankful that the hit didn’t somehow paralyze. Next was the smell of snapdragons and leather, you were in your room. The sharp pain when breathing seemed to be gone, all that was left was a faint sore ache. 

As you opened your eyes, taking in the sunlight that touched the end of your bed in soft orange light through the sheer curtains hung over the window, you sat up; carefully, keeping a mindful gauge on your wound. But there wasn’t much pain to it and you idly thought about how long you must have been unconscious. 

Nero’s loud voice brought your attention to the door where you strained to listen to him talking to, who you assumed was, Kyrie? “What if she doesn’t wake up, Kyrie? She’s my only blood related family and I let her get hurt!” His tone worried you, maybe you’ve been asleep longer than you thought? 

“She’ll be _fine_ , Nero. You know as well as I, that (Y/N) has taken a lot more than this. Might I remind you that both you and Credo were her sparring partners.” Her calm voice brought a smile to your lips, she’s seen you come home bloodied, beaten, broken and exhausted from have a go at Credo. And as always, she was there to clean your injuries, run a bath and bring you food. She understood why you pushed yourself so hard, not to prove to anyone that you could do what they did. But to have the standing to stand up to those who let their lips flap, and tempers rise. 

You huffed, hearing your brother basically whine to Kyrie that this time was different, that you could have died. Now THAT irritated you, so you whipped the thin blanket pooled on your lap away and shuffled out of bed. _Who does he think he is? Calling me weak!_ You thought as you grasped the handle of the door, turning the knob and flinging it open in a mild rage. 

Kyrie eyes met yours and she softly smiled, Nero gaped at you like a goldfish begging for food, completely missing the glare you pointed at him. 

“ _Do I look or seem that fucking weak that you think I'll keel over from a minor injury like this one, brother?!_ ” If you could scream, oh would you. The anger that marred your features and the quick secession of signing would have to do with your simmering rage. “ _Must I remind you of_ **_WHO_ ** _was Credo’s guard, and who was a simple Holy Knight. Not to mention all the times I’ve handed you your ass, and still do so!!_ ” 

The silent snarl and exposed teeth, you spun on your heel back into your room, slamming your door behind you. _How dare he! He’d be gravely injured right now, or fucking worse. Dead! If I hadn’t reacted the way I did._ Tears brimmed your eyes at the thought of losing your only family. How would you have explained it to Kyrie? That not only did you kill her brother in the fall of the Order, but you let your own brother die! 

A knock on the door grabbed your attention, you head snapped to in when Nero opened it and closed it behind him. He glanced around the room, taking in the blood-stained towels and bedding before he looked over to you and the tears that were threatening to break free. “Shi- Fuck. I-I'm sorry, sis. I shouldn’t have implied that you were w-weak...” 

“ _You could have died, Nero. You could have fucking died. What was I supposed to do?! Let you take the hit when I knew I could take it and live! What would I have told Kyrie if you had died? Sorry I let my own brother die?!_ ” The tears started streaming down your face the further you chewed into him. One of your biggest fears is to lose your brother. Scrunch your nose and sniffled, wiping away the excess tears before you ripped shirt off your shoulder and yanked the bandages off, exposing the mostly heal wound. “ _Whatever we are...” You signed slowly, “won’t let us die that easy, brother. I knew how to minimize the damage._ ” 

Nero’s eyes softened, understanding where you were coming from because you both shared a fear, neither wanted to lose the other. So, when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug, shushing you softly with every stuttered breath and sniffle, you hugged back just as tightly. When you finally calmed down. Nero apologized over and over again, he was afraid he was going to lose you. 

He pulled back, just enough space for your hands, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, (Y/N). I was scared... scared that I was going to lose you.” 

_“I know._ ” 

“Still us verses the world?” He asked hopeful you forgave him. 

You snorted, an airy laugh and signed, “ _Still us verses the world._ ” Sighing, your head thumped against your brother’s chest as you returned to hugging him. You needed this as much as he, your shoulder injury was nothing compared to the emotional whiplash. 

He would always be your _‘big’_ brother, and you his _‘little’_ sister. All you had was each other, the only blood related family. Kyrie was family, but she wasn’t Nero. Nobody could replace that. _Nobody_. 


	4. A Dahlia For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time again, you can't escape the guilt from that day. It is a day you could never forget. So like normal, you repeat the processes you've been doing every two to three weeks for the last few years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 4 of They're Trying! This one was a little harder for me to write, but I'm getting it out. The idea for the Dahlia flower was from Synchronmurmurs over on tumblr. Snapdragons are my personal favorite flower, and I think they go well with Nero's Blue Roses, stalks of Snapdragons surrounding a Blue Rose bush protectively, just like Reader does with Nero. an the Tree Peonies kinda screamed Kyrie to me. The Bleeding Hearts were one of the flowers I had picked for Credo, but didn't feel right alone. So thank you again, Synch.   
> WARNING: Mentions of death! This chapter is kinda sad!  
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Leave a comment telling me what you think or hit me up over on tumblr @TheLyingElf ! Thank you for reading.

The bouquet of wilted flowers rest in the vase atop the kitchen table that sat in front of a large window, it had been two or three weeks since you had gotten the arrangement of flowers, some were still alive but most had shed their petals. A natural clock you’ve come to follow thoroughly over the years, once the majority have wilted, it was  _ time _ .

Time to go back and repeat the same process you’ve grown accustom too. In languid movements, you picked up the vase of flowers and disposed of them, washing the vase and placing it in the same spot it sat before, ready to be filled with another flurry of floral arrangements.

With that taken care of, you went about the kitchen; searching for the items you were going to need for the day. A bucket, it was under the sink; along with the cleaners you were going to need as well. The old rags were in the hall closet on the top shelf, draped over the hard bristle brush.

Depositing them all in the gallon bucket, handle in hand; you padded your way to the front door when a voice called out to you from behind halting you in your tracks.

“Hey, where you going?” Nero said from his seat on the couch, you watched him eye you quickly, noticing the bucket held in your grasp. He knew where you were going, he just needed to see you sign it.

" _ Repentance _ .” Was all you needed to tell him with that sad little smile on your lips, just a little conformation that you were indeed going  _ there _ .

Once outside, your feet carried you to the florist near the orphanage. A sweet woman ran the little store, not much older than yourself. You became friends with her pretty quickly. Emily, her name was Emily and she always managed to keep the flowers you wanted in stock. This time though, you were thinking purchasing something else, a little more personal.

The little jingle of bells above the door to the shop caught the attention of Emily and she smiled at you. “That time already?” You nodded. “The usual?” You shook your head and a small ‘o’ escaped her before you mimicked writing on paper.

Emily fluttered about her shop, picking up a pen and paper to give you. She sent them down on the counter for you and you put your free hand up, four fingers touch your chin then extend away; ‘ _ thank you _ ’.

“ _ I was wonder if you had some Snapdragons, Dahlias,  _ _ Tree  _ _ Peonies, Blue Roses and Asian Bleeding Hearts? _ ” You wrote out in a soft cursive, one of the things the Order was strict to teach, mostly to the women.

When you looked up at the woman, her eyes were on the paper, possibly reading it or just deep in thought. You bet on the latter with how her eyebrows furrowed. “I- I believe I do, let me check just in case.” And you watched her disappear into the back where she held the excess and more specialized flowers

Emily emerged with several bundles of the various flowers you asked for, they all looked so lovely but a particular one captured your eye. So, when Emily set down the bushels of flora, your hand immediately went to the absolutely large Dahlia blossom. A deep wine red colored the petals closer to the core while tips sat a vibrant white. It was so soft and stunning.

It reminded you of Credo’s  Angelo form he had obtained after the ascension ceremony, you also remembered him saying once that Dahlia’s were one of his favorite flowers growing up.

You went to smell the budding flower and were surprised that it didn’t really have a scent. Mostly like water and earthy. Setting it aside, you were definitely getting that one, you perused the other flowers; finding a few gorgeous light purple Japanese Peonies that you could see Kyrie having as a bouquet when she and Nero finally marry.

Grabbing an assortment of colorful Snapdragons, one of your favorites, and some nice sized Blue Roses, your brother’s favorites, set aside. You peered over at Asian Bleeding Hearts, another one of Credo’s favorite flowers. You plucked two decent sized branches and set them over with the rest of your selection to admire for a moment. Happy with your selection, you nodded towards Emily who took the remaining flowers into the back before she rang you up.

“That will be... thirty-four pounds.”

You paid the till and set the carefully wrapped flowers into the bucket she filled up with water for you and put the other items in a separate bag before saying goodbye to Emily and leaving. The breeze coming off the ocean blew your downy white hair into your face but you kept on your path, traveling down the street and past other shops. The town has started to thrive again after all the crap with the Order of the Sword and their Savior. It was nice to see new faces, new shops, more diversity and open mindedness, slowly but surely.

Your walk to the summit of the hill just outside of town always brought various memories, some painful and others happy, of all the training sessions and all the little inside jokes you’d slip in when talking to him. It was easy to tell him something and not have anyone else know what was going on, only Nero, Credo, Kyrie learned sign language with you.  _ For you. _

As you approached the peak of the hill overlooking the surrounding ocean, the rounded top of a headstone came into view and soon bold black letters, ones that looked to be written with permanent marker, spelling out the word  _ ‘traitor’ _ several times, along with the words  _ ‘burn in hell’ _ . Infuriating and hateful words making your anger rise. 

Every once in a while, and you don’t know who, someone would come up to  _ his _ grave and deface it. You thought it was because he was part of the Order of the Sword, but when you had gone to the cemetery the others were buried at, none were defaced or had any evidence of ever had been. Just Credo’s, even if it was out of the way people would go. Not to mention no one should really know about it besides yourself and those at the orphanage.

Was it because he was the Supreme General of the Holy Knights? Most likely.

Sighing, you got to work; emptying the built-in holders of their dying flora and setting them down near the trunk of a tree nearby to biodegrade. Taking the new flowers out of the bucket and grabbing the old rag out of the bag Emily gave, you dunk it into the water and began wiping down the stone; ridding it of debris.

Once all the dirt and other much was removed, you gave the stone a generous dosing of the cleaner you brother with and taking the hard bristle brush to scrub away the permanent marker defacing this man’s headstone.

Another whip down with the rag and water and it looked good a new, you were pretty satisfied with yourself. The markings were gone, the stone was clean; now it was just time to lay the flowers in the holders and your job would be complete until it was time for you to come back, starting the process over. 

You didn’t hate this task; you gave it to yourself... a self-repentance and no one could change your mind about doing this. You had to make up for what you did, who you took away, why you took them away and deal with the guilt and sorrow that came with.

That day rings clear in your head as you arranged the flowers how you wanted. The white and burgundy  Dahlia in the middle, Blue Roses on one side, Tree Peonies on the other, the Bleeding Hearts towards the out sides and the Snapdragons scattered through-out.

_ It was chaos, something was going on with the Order and by the time you found out what, it was too late. Nero and you were chasing down a man who had the same hair and eye color as the both of you, but you didn’t think all too much about it, just followed your mentor’s orders. By the time shit hit the fan, Nero absorbed the Yamato that was being used in Agnus’ experiments and Santus had Kyrie, hellbent on using her to lure you or your brother to the Savior. But why? _

_ You had sent Nero off to go save Kyrie, opting to stay back to try and find Credo so that he may help him, but you came across the strange man from before that you originally were chasing. Dante was his name, and the sword that Nero possessed, was Dante’s brother’s sword. There wasn’t really any way to talk to him, he didn’t understand your quirks or sign language, nor your signals. He wouldn’t know because this is his first time meeting you. _

_ He took a wild guess in the dark as you were trying to push him in the direction that Nero was in, if your brother and best friend had any hope of survival, it was going to be because  _ all  _ of you were there to lend aid. _

_ What you couldn’t see or sense was Credo coming up behind you as you pushed and pointed Dante in the right direction.  _

_ Credo’s voice bellowed from behind, “Y/N, what are you doing?! He’s the enemy!” But you just nodded at Dante and forced him to go, you’d deal with Credo. Or so you hoped. When you turned around to explain to Credo that Sanctus has Kyrie and wanted either you or Nero to come or he’d kill the girl, you were interrupted mid signing to block Credo’s attack with wide eyes filled with confusion. _

_ He didn’t give you much room to try and sign, he kept pushing and pushing and pushing you, driving slowly into the corner with that murderous aura he held for those he was aiming to kill. It was getting increasingly harder to keep from being impaled on his sword, only getting one or two words signed out in between ever clash that sent you away from one another. _

_ This man that you idolized as a child, had a crush on growing up, respected as your superior and mentor, who became every much your older brother as Kyrie was your sister, was trying to kill you while you were just trying to get through to him and ask for his help. You worried that you’d lose both Nero and Kyrie in all this shit storm. _

_ Holding him off was quickly becoming impossible to do, every nick of his sword ripped through your jacket and flesh, a few of his kicks had already cracked a rib or two. Retreating was not a possible either, Credo could fly in his Angelo form. You measure out the lives of two; your twin brother and Kyrie, to the life of one; your mentor and adopted older brother. _

_ Gritting your teeth, behind your eyes burned as tears settled on your water line and a white knuckled grip on the hilt of your sword, you charged forward with the apprehensive intent to kill. _

_ The  _ _ Durandul _ _ met with the flesh of Credo in his Angelo form. _

_ You both  _ _ crumpled _ _ to the ground. _

_ You frantically pulled his head into your lap, placing your closed fist to your chest and rubbed it in circles, signing ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, over and over. He looked confused as to why you were blubbering like a child and apologizing. _

_ “ _ **_ You wouldn’t listen.  _ ** **_ Santus _ ** _ **kidnapped Kyrie and threatened to kill her unless Nero or I came to where he took her. I was trying to get Dante’s help.** _ _ ” _

_ “He what?!” Credo croaked out into a coughing fit that ended with blood staining his gloves. _

_ His hand on your cheek, bring your eyes up to his, brought a mild comfort as he apologized for attacking you, having put you in a difficult position and that you had made the right choice to stop him. You held onto his hand and placed your lips to his forehead in a final goodbye, feeling him fade away. _

_ The wails that you could have shed if your stupid vocal cords weren’t fried beyond repair, cursed yourself for not being able to speak. This would have ended differently had you had the ability to actually speak. Tears poured down your cheeks, you held Credo’s head close to your body as  _ _ silent _ _ sobs wracked through your body. You weren’t sure how long you sat there and cried, but the next thing that you heard was a gasp. _

_ When you turned around, Nero and Kyrie were standing their shocked and tears welling up in their eyes. You apologized to Kyrie several times, telling them both that he was trying to kill you because you helped Dante get to Nero so he could help and you couldn’t get through to him to tell him what was happening. He gave you no choice, either it was him or yourself and potentially them as well. _

A heavy hand on your shoulder brought you out of the memory, you hadn’t realized you were crying until Nero was standing behind you with his hand on your shoulder. The guilt of what happened that day always chips at your resolve bit by bit, until you can’t hold it anymore.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” He murmured.

You wiped your cheeks, shaking your head as you stood up and signed, “ _ I was the one to killed him, Nero. I did it, no one else. It is my fault. _ ”

“He gave you no choice.”

“ _ I shoulder have tried harder... he’d still be alive if I did. He’d still be alive if... if I wasn’t born with this stupid disability. _ ”

Nero pulled into an embrace, softly shushing your sobs. “It isn’t your fault, none of it is. We... we don’t blame you, Sis. Not for being unable to speak, and not for choosing us over him.  So, stop beating yourself up,  _ please _ .”

You gave a non-committal huff, but nodded slightly none the less. 

Nero took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the floral arrangement to show Kyrie later before he cleaned up the utensils and slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you along with him. “Come on, let’s get home. It’s almost dinner time.”

Your heart felt a little lighter when you left and you swore you felt and heard the whisper of a voice next to your ear saying ‘ _ I don’t blame you _ ’. A small smile pulled at your lips, and hoped that if you really did hear that voice just now, that it was Credo’s. Giving you some small comfort that just maybe, you could start forgiving yourself for what happened, like everyone else already had.


	5. The Snapdragon's Plea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your fight with Credo brings about difficult choices. Which one should you take, and which one do you take?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So here's Chapter 5 of They're Trying. This is different than what I had planned. It was originally going to be a Vergil chapter, but I decided on an alternate "ending." It's pretty much a reversed chapter 4. I wanted to get this completed sooner and out sooner. But as soon as I finished chapter 4, I got hit with the worse fever and cold. Took me out for about a week and a half, took a few days to recover and then shit kinda happened in life. So I'm sorry for the delayed update. Thank you all for read and for all the kudos and comments. Leave a comment or find me on Tumblr @thelyingelf .

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end up,  y’know ? You didn’t ask to be put in this position, but you placed yourself here none-the-less. There was no malice, but you did regret this outcome. Because at this moment, you currently stood with a sword through your stomach, of which connected to your mentor , whom was your adoptive older brother and superior.

A long-winded fight, one he d etermined you had betrayed the  Ord er, and thus betrayed him. That wasn’t the case though. He didn’t give you a chance to explain, why you weren’t trying to apprehend or kill Dante or why you were only defending against his attacks.

The man that has come in and destroyed much of the Order as it was, fatally wounded Sanctus. Only for Sanctus to turn around and kidnap Kyrie, to use her as leverage to lure you or Nero to the giant ass statue they have dubbed ‘ _ The Savior’ _ _ , _ for god knows what.

He kept pushing and pushing and pushing, not once giving you a chance to talk to him. And boy, did you try. But he just wasn’t having it, was he? 

The sound of metal grinding on metal filled your ears, the smell of brimstone from Credo’s Angelo form filled your nose and the pure unadulterated betrayal and hatred that marred his facial expression was suffocating to say the least.

When presented with choice, there were many you could choose from. You could run, but then you risk him  _ actually  _ killing you, he had the advantage of flight. You could stay and defend yourself, in hopes of giving Nero and Dante time to save Kyrie, but again risk getting yourself killed. You could fight back, though that could result in you killing him and you weren’t too keen on that despite the current events playing.

As you took the brunt of every attack, the nicks he landed here and there. You were running out of fuel, slowly, your choices diminishing with every strike that managed to evade your defense and slice through cloth, leather and flesh.

What would you tell Kyrie if you killed Credo? ‘ _ I’m sorry I killed your brother, but it was him or me’? _

No, you wouldn’t rip away her only remaining family. But you also couldn’t let him just kill you. You are Nero’s  _ only _ blood related family as well. He’s your twin brother, as much as the two of you could be twins, anyways. The white hair? Check. Blue eyes? Check. Arrived at the orphanage at the exact same time in the same basket? Double check. 

You grew up together, spent your entire lives together, he was all you had and vice versa. He had Kyrie too now, and Credo. Even if something happened to you, he’d be okay, he would. You did your job, never let your disability take away from your ability to protect him. 

It was clear what you had to do, you only hope to whatever god that was out there or even listening to you at this moment, that Nero didn’t blame himself or Credo. This was your choice, and your choice was to forfeit your own life in trade for brother, for Kyrie and for Credo.

His Angelo form was not something you had fought before, there were no demons like it or other members that used it against you if they had it. The dwindling distance between you reaffirmed your thoughts. You’d do this for  _ them _ , even  as you beat yourself for being too weak to hold off against him like this. 

A defeated sigh left your lips, watching Credo charge at you once more, but you didn’t put up a fight this time. You simply dropped your sword off to the side and let your body relax as much as you could with the impending pain you were  about to subject yourself to.

The light that danced along his sword acted as a focal point as you watched your life play like a movie right before you. All the memories, all the growth and all the pain. But most of all, all the love you gave to your brother in place of the parents the both of you have been sorely missing ; you hope it’s  been  enough.

From the first time you knocked out one of the other kids of the orphanage that was picking on Nero, to defending him against civilians and Holy Knights who were  hell-bent on screaming profanity at the both of you. Accusations of being the bastards of a harlot.

The civilians were easy to handle, most were ignored, but those that decided they wanted to hit either of you were swiftly met with a glare and more than likely backhanded. The Holy Knights though? You wholeheartedly challenged them, and proudly whooped their asses.

A sharp piercing pain rippled through your body, the silent scream as you hunched over and grasped onto the sword thrust into your abdomen, desperately trying to keep your breathing as level as you could, given the situation.  _ So, this is what it feels like to be skewered on a sword? Ten out of ten, would not recommend. _ You thought, and silently snickered to yourself.

You grimaced, exhaling softly before looking up at the man in front of you, the clear expression of shock strewn across his face when he shifted out of his Angelo form . And you couldn’t help the smile the tugged at the corners of your lips, the tears the stung your eyes or the closed fist you held to your chest and circled clock ways in apology towards him.

“Why...  would you say that? Or do  _ this _ ? ” His stern voice, shakily pushed past gritted teeth, his brows pinched together as his eyes dart between his hands, the blade and your face.

Taking a deep breath and only slightly wincing at the pain in your abdomen, to which it did not go unnoticed by Credo, you slowly sign out to him with trembling hands, “ _ I-.. Sanctus took Kyrie and threatened to kill her-”  _ You had to pause in your signing, a cough forced the bubbling blood that built up in your throat out, spewing the warm liquid onto your own hands. “ _ if I or Nero didn’t come to the Savior... Dante could get there faster to help, because I had to go find  _ **_ you _ ** _.”  _

A small feminine gasp to your side, followed by the deeper timbre of a familiar male voice followed, “Sis!!” Credo, startled by Nero calling out, pulls his sword out of your stomach, gasping at the pain when you to turn to Nero; eyes brimmed with unshed tears and blood dribbling down your chin as you reach out for him before collapsing to your knees. 

Credo was unknowingly behind you shortly, catching you as your body teetered to the side weak and injured , confused by the whole situation but still had enough common sense to try and apply pressure to the  gaping  wound. Nero  bolted from his spot next to Kyrie and over to you, hands hovering over your body; flustered and panicked at what to do. 

“What did you do!? Ho-How could you, Credo!” Nero snarled toward Credo, wanting more than anything to rip you from his arms.

“I-I.. I though she betrayed the Order...”

“ Betrayed the...-  Did you even give her a chance to explain?! This is my sister! ” The silence and clenched jaw Nero received spoke volumes. No, he didn’t give you a chance. He immediately jumped to conclusions and went on the offensive. And now you were bleeding out in his arms, and it was his fault. “Didn’t even let her tell you that Sanctus was going to kill Kyrie, did you? That if her or I didn’t show up to that fucking-! Good to know how far your loyalty runs, Credo...”

Credo stared wide eyed at Nero; mouth slightly agape.  Nero never  was one to pop off like that, then again, Credo was hold a bleeding out you in his arms after he just stabbed you with  _ his  _ sword.  That’s really what he had done, hasn’t it? He let his loyalty for the blasted Order cloud his judgement of the woman in his arms , one of which had shown him a great deal of loyalty .  _ He  _ was the one to betray you , and it very well might have just cost you your life because of it.

“I didn’t... mean for this to happen.” Credo spoke quietly, fighting back his own tears , the shame and frustration prickling at the back of his mind like a broken record player .

You placed lithe cold hand on Nero’s cheek, smiling when he looked down at you, his own tears pooling up. “ _ Not his fault. I wasn’t strong enough _ _.. _ _. I’m sorry, Nero.”  _ Your signing the sluggish and shaky, struggling to keep conscious as your eye's lids drooped close, only for you to force them back open partially.

“C’mon, sis. You don’t need to apologize, just... just... keep your eyes open for me. Alright? You-you can’t leave me. I-I need you! You’re the only family I have left!” Nero sniffled, tears finally sliding down his reddening cheeks. You thread your left hand, your devil bringer arm, with Nero’s right, his own devil bringer arm and sighing at the warm contact.  The soft pulsing of power brought you an odd sense of comfort in your last minutes.

When you dragged your eyes back up to Nero’s, scrunched your nose as tears spilled down the side of your face, the salty mixture mixing with the copper smell. You could feel your consciousness fading, the black creeping into your vision and the warmth of your body slowly becoming cooler.  With t he last bit of your lucidity and strength, you mouthed to Nero, “ _ I love you, so very much _ _ , Nero. _ _ I’m sorry.”  _

As your eyelids slid close,  conscious drifting away in the  folly of darkness , y ou were vaguely aware of Nero crying and yelling at you to open your eyes, his hand grasping yours more tightly than it was before, but he sounded so muffled and far away and you just couldn’t muster the strength to try and open them again. The last thing to register before everything sunk into the void filled escape was Credo’s broken voice apologizing over and over again while hugging your body close to his.

You felt guilty, regretting having to leave them behind. But you couldn’t justify taking Credo’s life or letting him take Nero’s.

So, you floated in the abyss of not quite warm water.

The soft sheets beneath your fingers, birds chirping from outside and the warmth of the sunlight laying across your midsection pulled you from the lull of the cool waters of your mind. If this is what being dead was like, you didn’t think you’d mind the afterlife so much after all. The murmur of someone to your side, whispering  _ something  _ you couldn’t quite make you in the haze hanging over your head. Like a weird fog, obscuring sight and sound. 

You shift around a bit, trying to lose the muddled feeling in your brain and concentrating on the voice next to you. You swear you know that voice, but from where?

Your finger’s curl into the soft fabric, not what you expected, if you were dead- it surely shouldn’t feel like this...  _ right? _

Your senses came back one by one, first touch, then your sense of smell came next. The  _ room? _ y ou were seemingly in was warm smelling, with the lingering of something sterile, snapdragons, and fresh clean cotton. The feel of a thin sheet draped over your lower half and the just warm enough air around you felt nice, felt like home. But that lingering scent of sterile is making you un-easy and trying to open your eyes with as much strength that you can muster .

Blinking the bleariness from your eyes, the soft colors of the room coming into view and once you peered over to the side of your bed; the shifting pressure pulling you to it. Credo sat in a chair next to your bed, hunched over with clasped hands pressed to his forehead as he prayed to who you assumed was  Sparda .

Before you could even register the movement of your h an d, it was on his cheek and brushing to cup it; was he truly there? Were you somehow still alive?  Or was this some illusion of hell?  That wound should have killed you, so why did his cheek feel so warm; hair soft but stiff?

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours and scanning over your face before he sputtered and gasped, “Oh, thank the Savior.” He held your hand to his cheek, tears welled up along the waterline of his eyes. You tilt your head to the side, brows knit together in a confused question. “I-I thought I killed you,  that wound  _ should  _ have killed you,  but then something happened between you and Nero, and we were worried you’d never wake up.”

“ _ How long have I been unconscious?” _ You signed with the hand currently not in his grasp.

Credo’s lips tightened into a thin line, contemplating his words, “Almost  two months .” He watched as your eyes fell from his face to your joined hands and your mouth formed a silent little ‘o’.

“ _ Nero and Kyrie? Are they _ _ … _ _ okay?”  _

“They’re fine,  they’re  okay.” Reaffirming squeeze of your hand .

Silence hung over for a few moments, unsure of what to say to him. Your memories are little hazy, and you know he was probably blaming himself for what happened. It technically was his fault, but you were just as much as at fault than he was. 

“I’m sorry.”

“ _ What for? _ ”

“For... this” as he gestured to your current form laying the bed, “and for not giving you a chance to explain yourself. Conclusions were made, and I apologize for my rash decision .”

“ _ It's okay. I  _ _ was weak, _ _ and  _ _ couldn't bring myself to kill you. Much less, let you kill my brother.”  _ The slight smile that  adorned your lips brought a small bit of relief to Credo.  He wasn't an expressive man,  it took you years to be able to read his subtle body language. His shoulders still tense and jaw muscles tight when he isn't speaking. His refusal to properly look you in the eyes… out of guilt? Or could be fear you'd lash out in anger?  Maybe he felt shameful for his actions?

Whatever the reason was, your affirmation did little to  sooth his nerves it seemed.  You shifted your hand so that it combed through his slightly mussed  brown hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp and when you lightly tapped on his head, his eyes lifted up to you.  There was something that you needed to say, something you knew he needed to hear . “ _ I forgive you, Credo. You should forgive yourself  _ _ as well _ _.” _

The breathy chuckle  escaped his throat as he shook his head, “If I did that, Nero would kill me.  He still blames me, as right he should.  You are in this… predicament, because of my foolishness.”

You huffed, exhaling deeply . “ _ I'll deal with my brother _ _ , don't worry. Speaking of. Would you mind getting him for me _ _?” _

“Certainly, little dove. I'll be back in a few moments.” Credo rose from his chair,  taking the moment to lean over and press his lips to your forehead before he stepped out of your room. Leaving you with your thoughts .

There was the growing bubble of happiness that you didn't indeed die, you'll get to  spend more time with your brother and best friends.  Though you wondered why you weren't dead, as Credo said; that wound should have killed you. He also mentioned that something happened between you and Nero, but what could it have been? Power sharing maybe, some weird healing abilities that came with your freakish arms? Who knows, you'll ask once you  assuage Nero's worries .

Besides, you have the rest of your time to figure things like this out, now that you weren't creeping across death’s  threshold.


	6. Is This Bonding? Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are the only person home right now, so you decide that you should go out and do some training. When Nero brings Vergil around, a nerve is ticked when he attempts to "save" you from the demons, so you show him just how capable you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a bit since I've posted a chapter. But I hit the proverbial brick wall when it came to this chapter. So I took a step back instead of trying to force it. Wrote some other stuff, and when I was playing Uncharted The Lost Legacy, it hit me. So here it is! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Thanks for reading, leaving comments and kudos.

Hair tied up into a high pony, your baby hairs and whatever other pieces of  to short to be pulled back under the elastic band holding your hair fall into your face  as you wrap  your hands, wrists, ankles and feet in the protective tape. 

Meticulously  weaving it over and under, then between each finger.  Dressed in baggy joggers, snug sports bra haphazardly covered by a  crop top t-shirt that could barely be called that with how worn and torn it is, almost as thin as tissue paper.  You step into a pair of sneakers,  an old pair that you never cared what happened to but they've stuck with you for years  now .

Kyrie took the kids to the park a couple blocks down; Nero and Nico have left on a job that should have them home by tonight. You write a note on a piece of paper and leave it on the island counter for someone to find when they get home, telling them where you’ll be and roughly how long you’ll be gone. 

Grabbing your bag; stuffed with things you’ll need or possibly need and your customized  Durandal that you lovingly named  Dragunov ,  strapped to your back, you head out the door towards a clearing in the  Mitis Forest just a bit of a distance from home. It has been a while since you’ve gone out and done this kind of training. Always refining and sharpening your skills, ever present need to be stronger than the opponent before you.

The sun beats down on the pale expanse of exposed skin, light perspiration from the humid heat surround you, it only dips slightly lower in temperature when you entire the forest. The smell of the forest, and you swear in spots where the sunlight peaks through the breaks in the foliage, you can smell the sunlight.

A gentle breeze rolls through the clearing, the perfect spot to hone your skills. You lean your sword against one of the many trees around you before pulling out a vial, holding it up to the sun as it flickered various shades of red.

You may have hated  Agnus , but you couldn’t deny his genius; a substance that attracts demons to it. Synthesized down to be portable in small vials and crafted to only remain potent for a brief amount of time. Allowing captains to lure away demons from over running their squads, and enabling them to regroup. Normally it was made with a  _ human's  _ blood, but you found your blood made it so much stronger.

You theorized that it had something to do with the fact that you were only a quarter demon, half human, and you weren’t entirely sure of this aside from a few instances that have happened over the years, a third  _ angel _ . No one would believe you if you told them that your biological mother was part angel or whole.

That’s the only way you could explain yours and Nero’s  _ wings  _ when you triggered your devil forms. Most demons looked leathery or  chitinous . Where yours, yes had that leathered skin look with a few pieces that looked like they could be made of stone, but the way your horns curled around your head and the ethereal glow to your wings that looked like that of an angel depicted in the  Christan bibles.

The only other form of demon that could come remotely close enough were the artificial demons the Order created. But those were specifically crafted to appear as such, it’s not the same.

One of the things you did under the guidance of Credo, was a short stint working with  Agnus on the formula for the lures. Probably the only thing you are thankful to Angus for. 

You curled your hand around the liquid filled vial, taking a deep breath as you readied yourself.  Mitis Forest was and is still teaming with demons after everything. Slowly tightening your grip around the vial, you could hear the splintering of the glass before it shattered in your hands, some of the contents spilling to the ground. 

_ Let the games begin _ , you thought to yourself when the first piercing screech of a demon was heard.

\----

Nero came home sooner than he thought he would, the job was quick and easy, to that he was thankful for. He made it home at the same time as Kyrie and the kids. The hairs along Nero’s arms and neck bristled at the familiar pulse of energy just before a tear in the air appeared, Vergil stepping through.

“Hey, you here to have dinner with us or...?” Nero left the question linger.

Vergil’s eyes peered down his nose at his son, if one didn’t know better; they’d think he was sneering at him with that ever-present scowl that seemed to be permanently etched into his brows. “Dinner would be... adequate. However, I’ve come to speak to your sister.”

“Ah. I think she’s in the house.” Nero padded over to the door that connected the garage to the house, stepping through before he cupped a hand on one side of his mouth and shouted, “Hey, sis! The old man’s here!” The sounds of the kids running around and Kyrie in the kitchen was the only noise that responded. “Huh... guess not.”

“Nero,” Kyrie called, pointed at the counter top of the island where a piece of paper sat with neat handwriting scribbled on it. “It looks like she left a note on the island.” 

Nero picked up the paper, _ ‘Went to the clearing in  _ _ Mitis _ _ Forest, should be back by supper.’ _ signed with your named at the bottom. Nero groaned quietly, “ Damnit . Looks like she’s in  Mitis .”

Vergil tilt his head to the side, a single brow raised in a silent question to what his son had meant.

“Uh, forest.  Mitis Forest. Covers most the island. I know where she’s at. Come on, let’s go.” Nero turned on his heel, heading back out the door they had just come in from, “Won’t take long.” Vergil frowned, following a short distance behind him, keeping his stride matched to Nero’s.

“I thought it was still littered with demons. What business does your sister have that requires her to be out there?”  _ That’s much to dangerous _ , Vergil left unsaid, but Nero still caught the vague concern and underlining meaning to his words. Nero smirked with a small huff of a laugh.  _ Of course, _ he would be concerned about his  _ only _ daughter, but he didn’t know how strong you were like Nero did. No one  _ but _ Nero did, really.

You weren’t the one to fight Vergil atop the  Qliphoth tree, you let him do that. Let him hash out his unsaid grievances against Vergil, against your biological father. Because you didn’t need to dish out the ass whooping like he did. You were more for words than talking by swords and fists. So, needless to say- Vergil was wholly unaware that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

Vergil didn’t watch you train day in and day out till your hands were blistered over, and your body covered in bruises. He wasn’t the one to apply the balm to your wounds or help you when you had exhausted yourself to the point you couldn’t even walk. No, that had all been Nero. Silently watching over you, taking care of you like you did him, returning the favor. He knew you dealt with all the daily bullshit for his sake, and he was forever grateful for it.

“It  _ is _ ... But she’s fine.” Nero’s words held a finality to them that he hoped carried in tone his father would pick up on. Trying assuage his growing concern for you.

They fell into a comfortable silence, walking in tandem as Nero led Vergil to where he knew you were more than likely training. As they approached the clearing, both son and father could hear the pitching screeches of demons being cut short. Wet slapping of fists or feet meeting the bodies of demons with a sickening crunch.

They breached the line of trees and stood on the edge of the clearing, of which you stood in the middle surrounded by a good number of demons, mostly  Empusas . Though there were a few Hell  Cainas and a couple Hell  Antenoras scattered in the mix. There was a lingering smell in the air, mostly dissipated, copper tinged with sulfur and... _ flowers? _

Vergil gripped the hilt of the Yamato as he stepped forward only to be stopped by a hand on his forearm. His head snapped to Nero, who didn’t miss the flash of anger, the  _ concern. _ “ **_ Don’t _ ** . You need to see for yourself... that she’s not as  _ weak _ as you think she is.” Nero whispered just loud enough his father to hear. Only releasing his arm when he felt like he wouldn’t interrupt you. “Watch.”

Vergil relaxed, only slightly, but kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he refocused his eyes back to you. In the middle of the cluster of demons, no sword or any real weapon besides your fists. Sweat dripping down the side of your temple and neck, clearly, you’ve been here a while yet.

He watched in awe as you moved fluidly through the throngs of demons. Dodging the  Empusas by ducking or rolling out of the way before your fist would collide with their skulls in a gory mess as they turned the ash. The way you maneuvered around the  Cainas and  Antenoras was done as if you were dancing around them in bouts of movements like ballerinas mixed with a gymnast. The effortless way you’d bend backwards to avoid a cleaver, kicking off the ground to bring a single foot to the jaw of the  Antenora . Knocking it prone to the ground to allow yourself time to make the killing blow.

Ash remains of demon bodies lay at your feet in piles, chest heaving to catch your breath in the calm lull of the forest. Wind that jostles the leaves of the tree cool the sweat dripping down you and soaking into your clothes. You wrinkled your nose at the stickiness of it all, the blood, ash and sweat. You were definitely going to be in a desperate need of a hot shower when you got home.

You turned towards your brother and father, having sensed when they entered the vicinity, with a brow raised. Nero wore a prideful smirk, while your father had his mouth ajar with eyes just barely noticeably widened before he schooled his expression as you stepped over to the small duffle bag for a bottle of water.

“Old man was  lookin ’ for  ya .” Nero jutted his thumb towards Vergil. “Said he had something to talk to you about.” Nero paused, eyeing you from head to toe, “Looks like you had fun.” You nod your head, beaming a smile at your brother.

_ “It was satisfying. Didn’t need my sword to lay waste to some demons.  _ _ Wanna _ _ join next time _ ?” You signed to Nero after you placed the water bottle on top of your bag.

“Sure, but I think we’ll have to find a different area to do it. Pretty sure you killed every demon in this area.” Nero huffed a laugh, watching as you smiled again.

The scowl you sported when you locked eyes with Vergil was enough to make Nero grimace and take a step back in anticipation of the litany of colorful words you were about to spring onto your father. Evidently, you  _ had  _ noticed he tried to interfere. “ _ What did you need to talk about,  _ _ besides _ _ how weak you think I am. _ ” You ’re quick to sign ; lips pulled into a snarl.

Nero’s nose scrunches as he winces, a soft ‘ _ oof _ _ ' _ comes from him because he can feel the heat of your words as if you had voiced them even though you can't.  Neither one of you can stand being made to feel weak, always striving to be stronger than you are for those around you. In your case, you took it  farther than Nero himself, the restrictions on you were much harsher than  his all because you were female while Nero was not. 

You've worked incredibly hard to get where you are now, and you continue to work hard to keep growing . There's never a plateau to  growing, only holding yourself back from the efforts of it.

“I.. am sorry, Starling.. ” Vergil clenches his jaw, this isn't a side of you he's  seen before, you usually so calm and reserved, compared to right now. Eyes lit ablaze in fury, lips still pulled up in a silent snarl that exposes a single fanged canine.  “It was not my intention to imply  that you were weak.” 

You nod your head a couple times, mouthing the word ‘ _ Okay' _ as your gaze is cast to the floor in thought. There is only one way to assure him of your strength . Your hand glides over the hilt of  Dragunov , thumb flicking over the button  esque strap the holds the scabbard to the sword securely ,  unsheathing the thin blade  from its protective casing. “ _ Let's  _ _ spar,  _ _ hm _ _? _ ”  Signing with your free hand, eyeing your father from the corner of your eye.

“Pardon?”  Vergil utters, Nero claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“ **_ Let's _ ** _.  _ **_ Spar _ ** _. _ ”  The words are punctuated  by your harsh movements; y ou still your hand, placing  Dragunov against the tree aligned with it's casing to free up both of your hands . “ _ Just you and me, Dad. Otherwise you'll always see me as weak.  _ _ Let me  _ _ show _ _ you  _ why _ Nero cannot  _ _ best _ _ me _ __ _ yet _ _. _ ”

You  stretched your neck from side to side, rolling your shoulders;  feeling the bones pop  beneath skin and muscles.

Vergil ponders over the  request, his gaze roaming over the way  you hold your sword  at the ready, stance nimble , twirling the blade occasionally , nodding. “Very well.  I will accept.” 

The ensuing battle consists of  clashing blades and solid thuds, sparks flying  when the blades meet in the middle of two bodies and grind.  Energy rolls of their bodies and crackle in the air  in a show of power.  Each so close to triggering their devil counterparts but refusing to oblige that incessant scraping  trying to come forth. Vergil is strong, stronger than you in terms of muscular strength , but you're  manage. You're fast, a lmost to fast for him to keep up with you,  though he does.

You have him breaking a sweat, straining against your tenacity , your ire of being perceived as weak solely because you are a woman. If someone wants to deem you weak, they  must show that they are stronger than yourself. That burning desire to win, to be stronger, obtain more power  urges you on in this long winded fight between father and daughter. 

Blade meet once more as you hold it just above your head right where you need and want him.  You let your sword drop so that the blades are nestled near your face in the fight for dominance , throwing Vergil off guard , laying the trap . Placing your  free hand against the dull side of the blade, you push against  his sword with your own with enough strength that Vergil staggers backwards, watching as you drop low to the ground and sweep his legs out from under him.

He grunts when his back impacts with the ground. The tip of your blade sits snuggling against  the exposed portion of his neck. You're finally smiling , he notes, that proud swell of triumph flowing through you at having bested your own father.  Someone who has undoubtedly been fight much longer than you have, but a win is a win. Even Vergil has a small smile of his own.

You hold out your hand to Vergil to help him up that he gratefully accepts without arguing.  “ Well use of a cheap tactic.” A compliment and a dig from Vergil . Can't really have it both ways, can you? That just isn't Vergil. 

“But effective .”  Nero chimes in from the edge of the clearing, just as elated as you are. 

“Ye s,  well, it seems I was woefully wrong in deeming you …” Vergil pauses, rummaging his mind for the appropriate word to describe  what he felt you as, but nothing comes to mind than the word he knows will spike your fury. “weak. And for that, I am sincerely sorry.”  Vergil places a gloved hand on the top of your head with a soft patting motion. “It was not my intention  to belittle you , Starling.”

The appreciative smile  along with mouthing ‘ _ it's okay’ _ has Vergil  smiling once more.  He couldn't be more content with how things were at this moment.  Despite his competitive nature of wanting to beat his brother, he was still adjusting to having his new little family . His twin brother, and his twin children, all giving him a chance at redeeming himself. 

But you wouldn't have it any other way, this new little found family of yours is all you and Nero ever wanted growing up. Now you have it. A father, an Uncle, as soon-to-be sister in-law, three nephews and your brother to back it all up.  You felt life was pretty good right now. 

“Alright you two, Kyrie probably has dinner waiting by now . Let's head back.” Nero spoke up,  walking back the way he came with you and Vergil following after him in comfortable silence.  “Oh yeah, what was it you wanted to talk to sis about?”

“I wished to ask her if she'd like to accompany me on a job. ”

Nero didn't have to turn his head to know you were nodding your head  _ very _ eagerly.


	7. The Loud Meets The Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theres something still bugging you. You know it shouldn't, but does. Nico isn't gonna let that slide though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay, so I know I haven't updated in a bit. Between pinching a nerve in my neck/pulling a muscle (honestly not sure which just that it hurt), the quarantine, writers block and some other personal things that happened. I put this on the back burner until things leveled out. For the most part they have.
> 
> So thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. I saw them, don't worry. Thank you for being patient as well.
> 
> I hope everyone is doing okay either everything going on right now, I know things are looking grim. But stay safe!

A friendship with Nico is _unconventional_ at best, down right confusing at the worst.

She came knocking one day, looking for Nero. One of the boys, your nephews, came tumbling inside quick firing about some _weird lady_ in front of the house asking around for your brother. You and Nero exchanged a look of concern mixed with the subtle line of confusion. Not wasting any time prattling about, the both of you opt for going outside to– confront?– the stranger.

Her brash demeanor and straight forwardness had you almost side-eyeing the girl. She was tanned, tall, and skimpily dressed, especially for Fortuna. Her southern accent only matched by how loud she was, “Holy shit! There's two of ya.” A bright smile followed by a boisterous laugh. This time you did side-eye her before turning to Nero, whose eyebrows were equally as pinched together as yours at the comment.

You lightly tapped Nero's arm with the back of your hand, grabbing his attention from woman (whom you agreed with your nephews, was indeed very weird). Slowly bring your hands put and signing towards him, “ _What in the hell…_ ” occasionally peaking at the woman to make sure she didn’t understand what you had been saying to your brother, feeling satisfied with the look of confusion on her face, you continued faster. “ _Do you recognize her? Looks like one of those idiot mainlanders.._ ”

Nero snorted a short laugh, signing back just as carefully, “ _Don't know her, never seen her. Maybe one of the locals pointed her here because she’s an outsider?_ ” You pinched your lips together thoughtfully, nudging your head towards the person in question in a silent request to ask her what she wants.

When you turned your attention towards her, she raised a questioning eyebrow, eyes glancing over you before Nero. “Y'all _deaf_ or somethin'?” She inquired. Nero all but huffed, neither of you missing the emphasis on her words.

“No. We're not _deaf_ , my sister's mute.” Nero's words are slightly clipped and mimicky, that ever famous scowl adorning his face.

“ _Sister_?” She echoes, the scrunch of her brow and small gape as she stared. Why was she so surprised, she was the one to just state the obvious, did she not?

"Yeah, twin sister. Who the hell are you?” Nero raise a skeptical brow, arms folded across his chest.

You snickered at the look of pure bewilderment on her face as she kept looking between you and Nero. Almost as if she didn't _believe_ you were twins. She held put a hand for, what you assume was, either of you to shake. “ **Nicoletta Goldstein**! Y'all can just go right ahead and call me _Nico_ for short.”

The rest of the day had been spent in the garage with Nico explaining why she was here. And while you didn't like the idea of letting her have access to that monster of a man's work, she had agreed to helping the both of you fix up the van Nero bought to make up a mobile branch of Devil May Cry, in return for her father's research.

Nowadays, time is spent with her driving the Dmc van to various jobs you or Nero had taken up, long use to her insane driving. She quickly became one of your closest friends in this unforgiving town. You taught her how to communicate with you better. Teaching the basics of sign language, or asking yes and no questions. Keeping a note pad and pen close by. With time came the ability to read your body language.

Nico built a different kind of Devil Breaker for you, since Nero’s arm was ripped off. Neither of you wanted to sit back and let, unbeknownst to you at the time (that the very man who gave you half of your genetics was the one who caused this all), that demon get away with stealing the Yamato, and you weren't going to let him get away with the… _**blight**_ of feeling _useless_ and a _failure_ in protecting one of the very people you swore to keep safe.

That just didn't sit well with you. Either of you. Nico was the one to talk you down after Nero dipped with the stranger formerly known as ‘V'. You were just as livid as you were hurt at being left behind.

 _That_ was a long conversation when returned.

But, that incident seems so long ago now. Even though it's been a little over a year, sometimes that memory still causes unease. Of which, Nico can pick up so easily with out expressive you tend to be with your face.

"Hey chicka, what's eatin' at that pretty little head of yours?” Nico's lilt came just before the thudding pain of her flicking your forehead. You scowled as you rubbed the now tender skin.

Huffing, you supposed there was no reason to not tell her, she'd figure it out eventually or bug you till you spilled the beans. Reaching into a conveniently hidden pocket on the inside of your jacket, you pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. “ _I was thinking about–_ “ you stopped for a moment, tapping the pen against the paper. This was so stupid, why does it still affect you? And why in the hell does telling your BEST FRIEND make you feel ashamed or embarrassed by it?

Your eyes drifted from the your hand, up to Nico's, softening her look of both concern and understanding. “ _the time Nero took off with the human part of our dad. And how it made me feel.. still makes me feel. Y'know?_ ” The small yet sad smile you gave her before pushing the pad towards her.

She was quick to read it, frowning. “Oh hun.. did ya ever actually hash shit out with that dumbass?” When you thought about it, you really didn't. Yeah you _talked_ about it. But not so much how it made you feel, so you shook your head and matched her frown. “Maybe you should? Ya know.. actually tell him how you _felt_ when he just up and left without so much as a word. Even I gotta admit it was a little fucked up. Y'all are two peas n' a pod. Despite his dumbass bein' a hothead. I'm sure he'll understand!” Nico’s bright smile caused you to laugh softly.

" _Thank you_.” Signing just before you got up off the couch in the van and walked into the house.

Nero was sitting at the kitchen table, eating some left overs from lunch earlier in the day. You knocked your knuckles softly against the kitchen island to grab his attention.

He jumped a little before looking over to you, “Hey.”

" _Hey, can we talk_?” You signed almost hesitantly, you knew Nero picked up on that.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?” Pushing the bowl of food off to the side so he could give you his full attention.

“ _It's about.. when you took off with dad's human half without me.._ ”

The soft knowing smiling that spread across his lips aided in helping you relax a bit as you were signing to him.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that back up.” He chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck and gestured for you to take a seat in the chair across from him.

“ _I'm sorry. I didn't think if affected me as much as it has._ ”

“Nah. It's fine, Sis.” Nero folded his arms on top of the table as he leaned against it. “Let's talk. I’m all ears.”

 _This_ is why you loved your brother. _This_ is why you two were so close. And you'll have to remember to bring something extra special back from one of your jobs for Nico for giving you the little shove you needed as thanks.


End file.
